Two poems by Eileen Sheehan

    My Father, Long Dead My father, long dead, has become air Become scent of pipe smoke, of turf smoke, of resin Become light and shade on the river Become foxglove, buttercup, tree bark Become corncrake lost from the meadow Become silence, places of calm Become badger at dusk, deer in the thicket Become grass on the road to the castle Become mist on … Continue reading Two poems by Eileen Sheehan

A poem by Barbara Smith

  One of Each You were nearly Nemain and Macha for a while, as I reversed into the idea of two not one. I turned to books to see how to deal with motherhood again. Born in the hot-house of Gemini, Dáire, you were all ready for the bull’s-eye. Small, dark, but sturdy like an oak; you emerged – just like I imagined the stoic … Continue reading A poem by Barbara Smith